


We Taste Like Sin, and You Bet It's Addictive

by Books_and_Crows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Young-Au, inspired by gif set
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Books_and_Crows/pseuds/Books_and_Crows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Him, who is that?”<br/>Derek followed Peter’s line of sight, “him? That’s Stiles…why?”<br/>He looked back at Derek, and stated like it was the most plain and obvious thing in the world, like it should be common knowledge, and with a devious grin that just meant trouble, “I want him."</p>
<p>And sometimes, Peter learned, wanting and getting were harder than he predicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From When We Met I Knew Where I Wanted You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [This Gif Set](http://acklesboner.tumblr.com/post/56732437898/steter-au-while-visiting-his-nephew-someone)
> 
> Written for Sarah who hates Peter/Stiles but still helped me with the plot more or else. Young Peter is more challenging to write than I thought.

Peter didn’t believe in love, not really. He believed in lust, indescribable insatiable lust, but he believed love was just an illusion. A made up fantasy derived from the need to clutch onto normalcy.

And, Derek, Derek was always reaching for normalcy. Whether he was involved with sports or surrounding himself with those obnoxious idiotic friends, he needed to know that the werewolf didn’t make up his identity.

Paige, young sweet Paige, was where he supposed it all began. With their love, their need to be together, and a very fortunate (or unfortunate if taken from the worst perspective) passer-byer.

Peter didn’t believe in love.

\---------------------------

Peter didn’t like being assigned things. It made sense, in the overall rankings of werewolf lore that he, as a Beta, would have to obey commands delivered by his Alpha, but still he did not enjoy being demanded to do things. The ideal situation for Peter was to have a confused Alpha who let Peter have free reign until they were desperate and begging for his help.

Unfortunately his sister was quite the opposite of that. She knew what exactly needed to been done and how to execute it most effectively, and in this case it meant sending Peter to watch over the currently overwhelmed with grief Alpha, Ennis.

He wasn’t supposed to fight Ennis because it was plain knowledge that he could not even stand a chance, except maybe drugged on some sort of steroids. He was just supposed to let her know, if things turned out bad, to contact her immediately so they could get him under control. In the meantime do the best he could to contain him.

That was how he ended up stalking the hulking brutish Alpha to Beacon Hills hospital. Even though he had been taught to mask his scent it was so much effort to keep up, and though he did enjoy watching Ennis tick like a time bomb, he had other things he could be doing.

Like, convincing his nephew his relationship was a terrible idea.

Ennis caused a racket when he burst in, slamming the double doors open and stalking down the hallway causing the tile to crack under his feet. Peter followed closely behind, and wedged himself in the shadows between frightened patients whose waiting had just gotten ten times more exciting. He balanced against the wall ready to pounce whenever necessary.

The Deputy Sheriff, and various associates tried to calm him. Explaining that no, even though no matter how close he was he could not see the body. He could not see the body. No, not even if it felt like a limb had been torn and he was left with a fresh bleeding wound, he could not see the body.

 

Peter watched for the signs, his body tensing, claws growing, ears changing, and hair appearing, anything that could signify a shift. He had never seen Ennis so outraged.

Then abruptly, a voice shook him out of his watch. Peter had stopped looking at the door after the Deputy had come in, now focusing all of his attention on Ennis. He had not seen the boy run in after.  

He was shorter than Peter, but with long gangly limbs and pale skin dotted with moles. Dark fully lashed eyes were widened, and a flush from exercise painted over his cheeks and neck. Hair tussled to one side of his head from the wind, and clothing hanging out of place from his sprint. A backpack was also slung over one arm the entire thing packed with books, so many that the zipper split open, and they were about to topple over.

Well, he certainly wasn’t an unpleasant surprise.

His lips chapped, and letting out quick panting breathes from chasing the cop car in the night air. He then demanded answers in a hyperactive speed. “How long have they been here? Did you see anything…weird from the big guy?”

“Weird like how?” Peter could hardly form his face into one of a normal shocked citizen’s. He turned himself away from the scene, but kept his ears alert for any changes in Ennis’s heartbeat, and put more attention on the frantic hyper boy whose big, wide eyes jumped between Peter and the crowd.

“Like claws, or like maybe his eyes changed color or like fangs general weird non human like things.” He still had not looked at Peter’s face. Other patients were starting to move away from the violent scene into the other waiting room, but the boy looked like he wanted to move closer wanted to be right in the action, but something intangible was holding him back.

_Well isn’t that interesting_. It wasn’t everyday that Peter had a human (or at least he couldn’t smell anything else on him) come up and talk about very werewolf like attributes.

In fact, he doubted that any outsiders would think of Ennis other than a distraught friend. The reaction a little extreme yes, but grief controls the mind more than any other emotion. Maybe he was a hunter, though a little young, but who knew how young the Argents were starting them nowadays.

“No, I haven’t noticed anything. But why do you say claws? That doesn’t seem _normal_.” Peter was only decent at false innocence.

The boy hadn’t listened to anything other than the first word he said. He licked pale pretty lips, and eyes never left them. “Yeah, well you know what else is also weird.” He gestured to the scene in front of them, “the fact that someone was shot with a crossbow and then cut in half, not exactly the most normal murder. But still it’s happened in Beacon Hills before, and no one realizes that.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of anything like that before.” God, Peter really hated faking naivety, it made him sound ridiculous, but if it kept the curious boy talking then, why not?

Peter could tell him what he knew. However that would not only be breaking a code, but to give someone knowledge would prevent them from them giving him theirs.

“Yeah, but it couldn’t have been the same guy or girl whatever, because they are literally _decades_ apart, and this kind of stuff happens all over the freaking country. But like, for some reason no one ever looks into murders that happen with arrows filled with some weird ass plant and people cut in half.” He bounced up and down, shifting from one leg to the other, and then as soon as the Sheriff came over to take over from the Deputy, he ran over.

“Dad! Dad!” He hurried after the Deputy Sheriff, his father, as they walked, and fumbled with pulling papers out of his jammed backpack. In the process, an unnoticed book slipped out the front. He didn’t bother to say anything else to Peter.

Peter could only hear snippets of the conversation. Something about the boy trying to persuade his father into looking at the reports, and the Deputy dismissing the idea saying that he was trying to get a promotion not to be fired.

They were out the door before Peter could get a name.

He did however; pick up the abandoned book on the ground.  It was old, something passed down through centuries, he was sure, and on the cover indented into the leather in black ink was a picture of a man with claws and a wolf’s head.

So, the certainly not unattractive deputy’s son, who was not a hunter, and on the brink of discovering one of Beacon Hill’s most well kept secrets, had just made his presence known to Peter.

He was on Peter’s mind the rest of the night. Who was he? Why hadn’t he seen him before? And why was he so interested in werewolves?

Well, he had been getting bored lately.

_________

He needed a plan of attack. There were a lot of ways he could go about this. One was wining the boy over with his wit, charm, and in depth knowledge of the subject he seemed to be so desperately pursuing. Woo him, bed him, and then dump him. Simple, efficient, and would certainly keep him entertained while everyone panicked over the packs.

He narrowed down possibilities of where to see him next, and began the next stage. He looked young enough to be a teenager so the most probable place would be a trip to visit his favorite nephew.

____

As soon as Derek’s Neanderthal friends cleared out of the table, and the only distraction Derek had was watching the Paige girl sit alone at an adjacent table, Peter slid up and took his chance.

He sat himself across from his nephew. Derek, lately, had been angering him. Though he had always been a little narcissistic and over-confident in his abilities, Derek was smart, and he never let anything cloud his judgment despite his young age. But now that there was Paige, the foggy haze of ‘love’ that consumed him seemed to be no more than an irritable distraction to Peter.

“Hello, nephew.”

“Peter.” He sighed, and moved his gaze away to give his uncle some attention. “I said I could have you banned from the school right?”

“And _I_ said,” Peter started with a raise of his eyebrows, “that with my face no one could ever ban me.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “If this is about Paige-“

“It’s not about your epic, but completely doomed teenage romance.” It wasn’t like Peter was set out to destroy their relationship. He just knew that when the time came, it would have to be ended, whether by him or some other force. She was human, and humans and werewolves led to a star-crossed lovers situation that could only end in scars and cold hearts.

But of course, he couldn’t outright have Derek end it. You couldn’t cut down a tree without the seed planted first.

“I’m here to inquire about someone.” He flicked his eyes around looking for the familiar face. It was not one easily forgotten, incredibly distinctive features. Plus he did know one key piece of information about him. “He’s the Deputy’s son, was there last night with Ennis.”

A quiet stilled over Derek, worry was hard to feel when you were so consumed by happiness. But still the loss of another pack left a distant pain on other wolves, a constant reminder of the suffering of another member of their species. He just hadn’t given it much thought.  “He is…?”

“Ennis? Completely destroyed, vengeful, ready to tear apart everything that comes into his path. What was expected, naturally.” Peter replied smoothly; Derek’s worries increased.

Then the beginnings of Peter’s idea immerged, the one that would cut down the tree of forbidden fruit before Derek could take a bite. It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Derek and Paige could stay in their Eden (probably assuming all things went accordingly) and Derek would get back to his senses.

He had been saying something to him, unconditional concern plagued over the young face, “Peter, are you listening? Will Ennis be okay?”

Peter had this look when he got an idea, and it was so difficult to contain it. The corners of his mouth would raise, his body would lean forwards, and his startling eyes narrow, like a lion really, a lion that had just imagined the prize between his teeth.

It wasn’t time yet; the tree hadn’t started to bloom. He looked over at Paige, directing both of their attention. “Yes, but he is looking to turn someone new for his pack. Maybe even two, he needs to replace the loss. And you know neph-“

Then, that fortunate coincidence happened again.

Disrupting Paige’s studies, with his vibrant red hoody, and his backpack still crammed with books, the boy from last night came up and sat next to her. He looked tired, skin seemed paler, and circles appeared under his eyes.

But still, Peter could imagine.

“Him, who is _that_?”

Derek followed Peter’s line of sight, “him? That’s Stiles…why?”

He looked back at Derek, and stated like it was the most plain and obvious thing in the world, like it should be common knowledge, and with a devious grin that just meant trouble, “I want him”.

Derek would’ve seemed taken aback, but by now, he was rather used to Peter’s antics. He snorted. “Good luck. Everyone knows Stiles is in love with Lydia since forever, everyone always says it, even him, and we’re not even in the same grade.”

Peter took some of Derek’s drink and twirled the straw around before taking a sip. “Forever is a long time, maybe, he’s gotten bored. Do you know what a mantra is Derek?”

“Yes but I don’t see what this has to do with this conversation.”

Stiles was pulling the books out of his bag to show Paige. He paused for a second, obviously now noticing the missing one and puzzled by it’s absence.

“A mantra, in one definition is a repeated set of beliefs. It could be Stiles no longer loves that girl, but it has just grown into his mantra-his beliefs.”

Derek looked annoyed, “and it being his mantra makes it easier to get him to sleep with you?” He sounded skeptical or more that Peter was being ridiculous. Again.

“No, but my dear favorite nephew,” he stood up as soon as Paige left the table as Stiles fumbled with his bag. Peter passed Derek’s drink back over to him.  “It makes it so much more fun.”

Derek sighed, and he could see Paige waiting for him just inside of the hallway. Before Peter hunted down Stiles, he asked him in a low voice, just in case Paige overheard. “Before, what did you mean by doomed?”

The face of fifteen-year-old innocence gleamed against Peter’s widened shark smile, “Derek. Paige is young, beautiful, smart, and talented.” His voice light and affectionate, but at the next sentence turned to something darker. “But she’s also human.”

____________

Peter heard the cursing before he sat down. Stiles, totally absorbed in his search let out a string of swear words, as he dug through his backpack. “God damn it, I know it was in here last night, God damn it.”

How fortunate.

Peter produced the book from underneath his jacket and dropped it onto the table. He sat down on the corner, quite close to the other boy, with his back slouched against the edge of the table and arms resting wide across it.

“Um…”

“That’s what you’re looking for right?”

“Yeah, hello, uh thanks. But how did you get this exactly?” His voice was as fast, as Peter remembered, talking quickly with barely any pauses for breath. “Like I’m pretty sure, ninety percent positive, that I took it home with me, and I’m also positive you weren’t there.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “or it fell out of your bag at the hospital last night.” He shifted then, so Stiles could see his face properly. Even though he had only glimpsed at Peter’s face maybe once last night, the combination with his voice was enough to jog his memory.

“ _OH_ yeah, I guess that makes sense. You’re the guy from last night. Sorry about the weird questions, it’s just you know gotta cover all the bases.” His laugh was a little nervous and forced. Hiding something.

“No, it was some scene last night.” He started, and Stiles bobbed his head in agreement while filing the books back into his bag. “Interesting book though, and what you said about the arrow.”

Stiles was clearly not as filled with the same adrenaline as last night, and not confident enough to be announcing his theories to a stranger.  Peter figured Paige must have turned him down. “Oh yeah, yeah that, don’t give it too much mind you know how books they get to you and night imagination.”

“You’re not wrong.” Peter leaned his head backwards to look up at the sky, “not exactly right, but not wrong either.”

“That’s incredibly vague,” he could hear Stiles’ heartbeat speed up, “but what do you mean by not wrong.”

“Your hypothesize needs some readjusting, but you’re on the right track.” Peter tapped the book with one of his fingers, “Do you know what the herb in the arrow was?”

“I have an idea.” Stiles spoke, carefully. “It’s kind of crazy, and you could be from a mental institute for kids who think too much so I don’t really know if I should uh, elaborate.”

“Trust me, I’m not from any mental hospital.”

“I think it was Wolfsbane.” He immediately answered without any more consideration.

Peter grinned, and continued to drum his fingers on the surface. “Well, aren’t you the avid reader?”

Stiles scoffed, “I mean it’s not exactly normal looking, and it didn’t take much to figure out what it was you know.”

Peter turned back then so his hand rested under his chin, and he could watch Stiles fidget as he asked the next question. “So you’re suggesting the man who was killed was a…?” He waited for Stiles to finish, to see if he could, to see if he could openly admit what he had been thinking to someone who would judge him for it.

Instead he gulped, and looked down at his bag, “there’s been a long history of sudden animal bites in Beacon Hills.”

“That,” Peter let out a long breath, “there has.”

“You know?” Stiles eyes, Peter swore, glistened at the prospect of a lead. A plan was set in motion. They both had something the other desired. This would be _easy_. Child’s play, something out of a cheap movie.

“Yes, more than you, less than some. What do you make of the man that died, and Ennis?” He let the name purposefully slip.

“Ennis?” He could see the gears in Stiles’ head turning, “do you mean the big guy from last night? The one yelling in the hospital?”

“Yes,” Peter started as dramatically as possible. “Let’s just say they had a bond that surpassed the one of even lovers, deeper than any human. Losing him was like losing a limb.”

“Wait you knew Ennis? And what do you mean by deeper than human? There was something more going on I totally knew it. Oh thank Jesus I’m not crazy.”

“Not too crazy at least.”

Stiles laughed. It was not an unpleasant sound.

He didn’t answer the questions but instead extended his far hand for Stiles to shake, making the boy’s arm have to reach across his body to grasp it. As soon as they were touching he leaned in closer so he could whisper his name lowly.

Hey, whoever said that cheap moves didn’t work?

“Peter Hale.” Peter had seduced many people in his lifetime. It was no secret; it was an art he was working on mastering. He knew though, that a name was most important.

When the people he aimed to become involved with met him, he had to say his name in a way they remembered. So when they say him, they’d hear it again and arousal would spur.

He expected that to happen. For Stiles to shift awkwardly, for his pale skin to break out in a red blush that would look so very delectable, and his lips to open and close with lose of words.

Instead, he dropped the hand like it was on fire. “You’re a _Hale_? Of course you’re a Hale.” He messily put everything in his bag and began to storm away. His cheeks were red but because of a completely different emotion than lust.

Well, that was not what he expected. Peter was certainly never one to chase after someone, but he caught up to Stiles, and with his height advantage strolled along side him with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yes, I am, and despite the fact I told you mine you have yet to tell me yours.” He smirked, and bumped shoulders. Stiles pulled away quickly.

“No way, I’m totally not having this conversation with Derek’s older brother.” He was aiming for the parking lot, and Peter was almost positive he could stop him before he entered the old Jeep he seemed to be headed towards.

“Older brother? Flattery gets you nowhere Stiles. I’m Derek’s uncle.” He grabbed Stiles’ wrist. Thin, bony, the same as his long fingers, and he could feel the pulse throbbing under his skin. It was such a nice heartbeat, like a little bird. “And you should really get to know someone before forming such _vehement_ opinions.” Stiles flicked his hand out of his grasp, and continued towards the car.

He threw his bag through the open window and opened the car door quickly with Peter hot on his tail.

“I don’t care, there’s something up with your family, something bad, and it’s not good for Paige.” He started to open the door but Peter slammed it back shut, and the keys fell right out of his hands. He picked them up quickly, supernaturally fast, so he was back up before Stiles spun around, mouth wide open and ready to tell him off.

Peter had him then. Trapped between him in the car door, and Peter with the keys tucked inside one of his curled palms.

“Well this was not how I expected our first meeting to go Stiles.” He dropped the act, whatever he had kept up before, as being vivacious and friendly was gone. This, right now, was Peter. His voice, one always musing and plotting, and there was something not entirely good lurking behind his eyes.

“What’re are you talking about?” He glanced around for the keys. An exasperated look overcame his face when they were no here in sight, not afraid, just angry and annoyed.

“I can help you,” Peter started just a plain offer, “I know more than you could ever.”

He just loved that offended look on Stiles’ face. “I’m doing just fine on my own, thank you very much, besides there’s something bad about your family, and I don’t want mine to be involved.”

“But don’t you think,” he moved a bit closer. Forward, Peter thought, slow courting was never going to get him anywhere with this one, especially when their relationship had taken this route. “That it would be so much better coming from the source?”

“The source being a creepy uncle? Because, no I really think I’m good.”  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his eyes.

“You can’t learn everything from books Stiles. I’m sure you’re a smart enough kid to know that observation is the best evidence for conclusive support.”

“Yeah, and I have a feeling that the observation would involve me dying which only offers one type of conclusion and not one I’m interested in.”

Peter chuckled, for the first time in what it seemed to be ages. Amusing, this one, so amusing and though Peter wasn’t very materialistic, and the possessions he owned were more for practical use than anything else, on occasion he did want things.

“That’s where I would come in Stiles.” He moved his arms so they were back to his side and away from the boy. “I could offer guidance, as long as you stay interesting, and protection maybe, as long as you’re entertaining.”

There was a pause, where Stiles mouth just hung open before he yelled in the most disgusted tone. “Oh my God. Are you suggesting? You don’t even know me. This just got so much creepier. I _knew_ there was something up with you Hales. Ew, ew, God I can’t believe you just said that. I feel violated just from that.”

“Now _that’s_ jumping to one type of conclusion Stiles. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to examine all the evidence before you assume things?“ He teased

“It’s not assuming, it’s inferring, and whatever experiment you’re suggesting will definitely not go along with any of my hypothesizes.” He backed as far into the car door as humanly possible, pressing his spine against the cheap paint job.

“Mmmm, you sure know how to make an impression on a man.”

His nose wrinkled upwards, and he shoved Peter backwards. “No. I’ve talked to you twice, and the second time the majority of the conversation was you hitting on me. So I hope the impression I make is a fucking solid one that says stay away, because my dad’s the Deputy and I will have you restrained, I swear to God. “

A shout of Stiles’ name came from across the lot. They both looked to see a brown haired boy, definitely more muscular than Stiles, dressed in lacrosse uniform and running towards the jeep with an inhaler in one hand.

Stiles seemed a little more frantic. “Now give me my keys.”

Peter dropped them into his open palm.

“Great, thanks, now tell Derek to stay away from Paige, and you stay away from me. Then we’ll all live happily or whatever.”

Peter didn’t say much, until the one calling Stiles name caught up to them. He stopped a few feet away puzzled by the scene.

“Hey, Stiles who’s this?” He elbowed Stiles’ side affectionately, reading the mood as too serious and trying to lighten it just a little.

“Leaving,” Peter smiled. Before he left though he brushed his hand over Stiles’ shoulder as if sweeping off lint. “But just keep in mind Stiles there are many other ways to live happily. And always,” his voice dropped a little low, “we _must_ consider the outliers.”

He strode away, an entrance and exit was always important, always. Stiles sure was entertaining, intelligent sure behind all those messes of sentences, and definitely pretty. He would be fun that was for sure.

But Peter needed to reevaluate his plan. It wasn’t lost, just a change in direction needed. He would figure out the best time to come to Stiles again, this time maybe in a more secluded area.

However, the next time they met, it wouldn’t be Peter who approached him first. Instead it would be Stiles, in hysterics, pounding on his door, demanding assistance and answers.

 

 


	2. This Will Be A Disaster, but I Can Already See It Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Sarah, who hates Peter with a passion yet still listens to my plot ideas.

Despite was his niece might argue Peter was not evil. He had not done anything with the intent other than to make his or others lives easier. Peter was really looking out for the best of others, and well, the best for himself as well. In the end, the best for Peter was always beneficial for others.

Laura, argued with this constantly, and a rift drove between them long ago as she even at her young believed that Peter wasn’t the loyal Uncle he claimed to be. That wasn’t true, Peter would do whatever was best for the Hale pack, no matter how drastic.  
  
Talia was a good Alpha; she was strong, well respected, with abilities that surpassed other wolves by miles. However, being the best Alpha required the occasional cruelty. Something, which Talia could not demonstrate to very many people especially her pack, her family.

Peter wasn’t resentful; he knew that Talia made a fantastic Alpha. But if it were Peter, things would be different. He could be cruel. He could be fantastic.

 Ennis, mad with grief, was ready to act upon that requirement of an Alpha. Peter knew this was the perfect opportunity to save his pack.

However, the outcome of it was just a coincidence, Peter entirely did not mean for the later half to happen, and he was a little insulted to be blamed for it.  Especially when Stiles stood at his doorstep, flush with rage, yelling about his crazy family and his plans.

And in a broken, raw voice, shouting, “why me? Why _him_?” Peter would never forget the look on his face, in those moments as he waited on Peter’s every word, as he locked eyes and the air was stiff with Stiles’ panic, with every breath he exhaled.

It all started with Derek.

__________

“Derek,” Peter called out as he walked towards his nephew. He just left the school building, and as Peter assumed he was about to meet up with his bone-skull friends, but at the appearance of Peter he quickly darted out of the way.

Peter Hale was a legend, and the attention was not some Derek sought to have. The questions that would come from his friends would take more than just some fabulous moves with his basketball to ward off.

“I told you I’d get you ban from here.” Derek directed him by his coat over to the side, and they hid around the far corner of the school building. Paige however, was still in sight.

“And we both know that won’t happen.” Peter tilted his head up to gesture to the girl with her head buried in between books. “She _does_ always eat alone right?”

“She likes to study…and I don’t think she likes my friends.” He looked away; the thought had obviously come to him more than once.

“The cretins?” Peter rolled his eyes. “Can’t imagine why.”

Derek shifted uncomfortably. The basketball balancing between his arm and his side, and he constantly looked around to see if anyone spotted them. Apparently, their encounter the other day had gotten more attention than he originally assumed and was an experience Derek did not want to revisit.

“At least I talk to people,” he snapped. “Anyways, what are you doing here?”

“Well Derek,” he crossed his arms and leaned against the cool brick wall, the shade over both of them and an indent made in the grass from where Derek’s backpack had just been thrown down. The voices of the rest of the student body were far off as they gathered in the cafeteria or at the outdoor tables.  “I plan to talk to people.”

There was a silence as Derek calculated what exactly Peter was trying to say, and then a groan, “ is this about the Stilinski kid?”

“Stilinski? His parents named him _Stiles Stilinski_?”

“I really don’t know. Seriously. It seems weird to me, but like I said we’re in different grades, and all I know about him is what Paige says.” Peter noticed how Derek’s voice lightened at her name. Always it did, Derek had a harsh way of speaking ever since he went through puberty. It wasn’t always as so, but when he spoke to Peter, or anyone who had known him for centuries, lower, deeper, darker.

But of course, not with the gravel and sorrow that adulthood brought.

“And Paige and him are…?”

“Friends,” Derek shrugged. “She says they knew each other as kids.”  Then Derek sighed, “but really Peter what exactly are you after?”

Then Peter smiled, that wolf’s smile. His lips curved, white teeth exposed, feral but controlled, planning, ready, not evil, but something so very close to it. “Curiosity, that’s all. He’s interesting.”

That disapproving looks only increased, “Yeah well, he’s also the son of the Sheriff, and Paige says he’s been freaking out about werewolves, of all things. So you really shouldn’t-“

Peter grabbed Derek’s backpack off the ground and handed to him casually. Before he walked away, he spoke in a low voice with that terrible smirk and narrowed blue eyes. “Derek you should really consider, that the thing about humans, is that they are good for curiosity, but really,” he jerked his head over to Paige who was walking over, a large instrument case weighing her down on one side, “that’s all they’re good for.”

-______________

Peter wasn’t a stalker.

But sometimes, sometimes, he had this tendency to follow people. It only arose every once in awhile, in certain situations that called for it. For example, when Talia was going to Alpha special meeting, he would occasionally follow behind. Whether to hear what they were talking about or be ready to step in for his sister if things looked troublesome, no one would ever know.

Or Laura when she went on dates with insufferable men, who were the picture of bad news, always left her upset, and caused her to break various objects in the ‘healing process’.

 Or a certain boy on the lacrosse team, who flailed his arms spastically, and couldn’t catch or throw a ball for the life of him. He tripped over his own feet too, more than actually running.  

Besides Peter was Derek’s best friend, and Stiles was Peter’s potential interest, so technically it was all justified.

So naturally, he figured out that Stiles’ only good friend was the boy with puppy dog eyes, an unfortunate case of asthma, and almost always sat on the bench with Stiles. He decided it was by good means he came across this discovery, and should inspect it, just because he had already come this far. It would be a waste not too.

They drove home together, but stopped at the friend’s house. McCall, by the name written on the back of the jersey, shouted that he was going to work out. This year he would make first line. Peter doubted this probably as much as Stiles who rolled his eyes and drove away.  

It was time to make an entrance.

 “McCall?” Peter smiled and Scott flipped around with wide eyes searching for his voice. He came up closer. “You’re McCall right?”

“Scott, yeah.” The boy replied hesitantly, eyebrows furrowing, and an expression of complete confusion masking his face. “Uh, who are you? And what are you doing here?”

“Peter,” he extended his hand, “I’m writing an article for Beacon Hills’ newspaper on the lacrosse team.”

Scott shook it with a sturdy shake. He reminded Peter a bit of Derek, with that earnest whole-heartedness in his grin. He lacked the confidence though, but the ability to lead was twitching under the surface.

“Oh, cool.” Dimples popped forward with that grin, “but shouldn’t you be interviewing like Jackson or someone?”

The charming smile never left Peter’s face. Derek, if he were here, would remark it was a little creepy. “I was on the Lacrosse team too, Scott, and I learned,” with a hand on his shoulder he lead him into the house, “that it’s the players who aren’t always on the field who are the most knowledgeable.”

-___________________

“So Scott, who do you know best on the team?”

Scott, actually, was quite well built for someone who was never on the field. Compared to Stiles who would be easily broken, Scott stood a little bit more of a chance. His answers were filled with dedication, and his passion showed through in every single word.

Peter could not help but think that with a good emissary, and a little guidance, he would make an excellent werewolf. The bite would take to him flawlessly.

“Well, everyone is close, especially if you’re benched, but my best friend is on the team so that’s great but really every-“

“Best friend?” Peter interrupted quickly.

“Yeah,” the expression of fondness when Scott spoke next was blinding, “Stiles.”

Peter crossed his legs in the desk chair. Scott sat on his unmade bed. The entire room littered with clothing. It was a general teenage boy’s room. However his at least had a path to the desk, dresser, and bed, sometimes Derek’s floor was completely engulfed.

“Oh, and what is Stiles like?”

The positivity Scott showed while speaking of his best friend was almost too much for Peter to handle. Though he doubted they had anything more than friendship, every fiber of his being rang with loyalty and admiration.

An excellent werewolf. Peter uncrossed his legs, and leaned forwards.

“He’s…a little spastic, and kind of talk a lot, and _always_ gets us into some mess, and really I’ve gotten grounded more because of him than anything else,” the speech looked like it was going in a direction that Peter had not originally imagined. But then, he scratched his head sheepishly, “but he’s like, the strongest guy you’ll ever meet. But not like in strong lacrosse ways, but like other ways.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “strong like how?”

“I thought this was about lacrosse?” Scott countered with zero sass in his voice. Peter could imagine the same answer coming from Stiles filled with the snarky rises and falls.

“You’re right.” Peter placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself upwards, “I think I have all I need. But do you mind, I’d like to speak to this uh…Stiles was his name right? Do you have a number I could reach him at?”

He scribbled the number down on a piece of paper, and handed it to Peter before showing him out.

Peter heard snippets from the conversation afterwards. He stayed outside Scott’s window, just out of vision. Scott commented on how weird the interview was. Then Stiles, eventually, matched up all the descriptions and realized it was Peter posing.   

“Peter Hale?! He’s a Hale Scott!” Stiles exclaimed. The crackle of the telephone was making it difficult for some words to be heard clearly.

“I didn’t know,” from the window Peter could see Scott raise his hands and wave his them defensively. “He seemed like an okay dude, wanted to know more about you than lacrosse really…”

“He’s the enemy Scott!” Stiles yelled, “he’s totally evil you can see it in his eyes and his weird hair! He trapped me on my Jeep; he’s the enemy! You don’t consort with the enemy bro that’s like 101!”

“I didn’t know! Seriously!”

There was a long pause, “Wait,” Stiles voice was slightly shaky, “what do you mean he wanted to know more about me?”

Scott did not reply for at least a minute.

“Scott?” Stiles voice rose towards the end of the name.

Then Scott whispered in to the phone, hesitantly, “should I have not given him your number?”

There were indistinguishable words of outrage.

Peter walked home humming.

_______________

Peter, while fine with supporting his family and being in the shadows, sometimes did not like his standing in the werewolf world. While Talia’s children were seen as future werewolves with great ambition, flowers ready to bloom, Peter was regarded as a flower who already bloomed and was waiting for his time to wilt.

This was untrue however, he was still learning quite a bit about the more obscure powers of wolves, but he would constantly be regarded in werewolf politics as the little brother.

The only one of the Hale siblings that mattered was Talia, strong, beautiful Talia, with her shape shifting abilities.

Peter was too good looking to be left behind.  To be forever regarded as the less successful Hale. To never regain the Alpha status he was born to have. He _deserved_ better.

He knew a way to do so.

When a werewolf is lost in a pack the pain is enormous, consuming, life-changing, so naturally, there needed to be a replacement. And Ennis needed one immediately, or else his entire pack would suffer, and out of the power houses he would become the weakest.

And the easiest to over take. Ennis was a wreck, conflicted with fear, pain, and easy so easy to manipulate.

As was Derek, and the next day, Peter paid his nephew a visit.

___________________

After his hormone driven friends disappeared, Peter slid onto the table. Derek had smelled him from across the field. Peter assumed he made a false excuse, but now his head was bowed like he hoped his uncle would not see him.

Every once in awhile he would make side-glances to Paige, his affection unabashed. He knew that Derek had that constant fear. He was obsessing over her, thinking about it all night, always on his mind.

He slid across from him, “Why does she always eat alone?”

Derek’s scowl was immediately in place. It was a love-hate relationship, something that all the truest friends have, “What are you doing here?”

Neither had brought up the event that had happen a mere week ago. Fear, was still present in Derek. Though he had incidents with hunters before, none were like this. None enough to have him cowering in a place that was filled with an evil so nauseating.

“Looking out for my favorite nephew,” and then Peter’s voice deepened, “making sure no one has a crossbow aimed at your throat.”

Derek’s scowl dissipated into a softened look. The memories from that night were vague but the feeling of being hunted, of crouching in the dark in fear with only Peter to stay beside him, still haunted him.

He recovered quickly, “I could get you ban from school grounds. You know that right?”

He grinned at Derek, “No one would ban me from anywhere,” and then raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. “I’m too good looking.”

Derek opened his mouth in an incredulous expression. He nodded his head as if trying to digest the whole of Peter.

“Doesn’t she have any f _riends_?” He asked with judgment thick in his tone.

“A few, but she likes to study during lunch, and,” he looked over his shoulder and half shrugged, “and I said already, I kind of just don’t think she likes my friends.”

Peter took the package of Reese’s peanut butter cups out of Derek’s lunch and began to pull open the wrapper. “No one should like your friends. They’re a bunch of hormonal half-wits.”

Before Derek could defend his group of cretins, Peter jumped in. “But she does have that one friend. What was his name? Stiles?”

Derek groaned, and toyed with his drink cup, “Peter I already _told_ you-“

“This isn’t about him,” He stared at Paige with her head buried in a book, “It’s about that one over there. She’s perfect for you.” He took out one of the candies from the packing.

“And perfect combinations are rare in an imperfect world.” He took a bite, and Derek looked at him with disgust and slung his bag over his shoulder to leave the table. Peter remained seated, picking through the remainder of what food was left.

“It would worry me too, though” He stared down at the table as if deep in thought, and then glanced up at Derek, “I’d probably be thinking about it all the time.”

Derek looked at him and then over to the girl he was so desperately in love with. “Thinking about what?”

“Her finding out,” he took Derek’s cup out of his empty lunch, and took a drink, “you’ve thought that through right? You know it always happens.”  Derek’s confusion switched to worry instantly.

“One minute, you’re in this blissful teen romance,” he started, Derek hanging on his every word, “and next, she see fangs, glowing eyes, claws.”

“She doesn’t have to find out.” Derek spat back at him.

“But they always do. Especially when they’re perfect for you.”

Derek’s gaze focused on Paige, and Peter’s voice was soft in the background, just above a whisper. Planting words into his mind, the seed of a destructive tree.

“There’s really only one way to make sure you’ll always be together. “ Paige was a beauty, even for a human. “Turn her.”

Derek, with the idea swarming around his mind, ran to meet the girl that he now realized could be separated from him in a matter of minutes. His usual confidence was off, and she noticed, placing her hand on his arm, and he shook his head trying to reassure her that everything was okay. But all the time, all he could think about was her staring at him in horror, in fear.

It would be so easy too. Peter knew everything; he had everything ready. Ennis, the poor soul, who lost a limb, needed one replaced. And having Derek’s one true love be the replacement, and insuring instant and infinite happiness would put him in good regards with Talia.

The closer he was with Talia the easier it would be to help use her powers, when the time came. The favor of course, would be returned to the person who mended his broken pack.

Peter could only be the little brother for so long.

-_____________________

He visited Derek in the locker room that afternoon. Derek was sitting on a bench, with his hands folded, and thoughts lost in the distance.

“I have the perfect idea.”

Derek’s refusal was not as strong as earlier. “Go away.”

Peter leaned against one of the stands. “You know about the packs being here right? There are more Alphas than I’ve seen in one place.”  He knew Derek’s line of thought. His mother, who spoiled him constantly, would be willing to bite an innocent girl for the sake of love. “Your mother would never do it, and these packs won’t be here much longer. The time to do it is now.”

“One, little, bite.” He enunciated each word, and crossed over to place his foot beside Derek and lean over with an arm on his thigh, “and she never gets sick again. She stays younger more beautiful. Think how she’ll be able to protect herself.”

He whispered again, aiding that tree to grow. “Derek, the bite is a gift.”

Derek rubbed his sweaty palms against the basketball. Peter knew from his stiff shoulders and his downturned face, that he had made his decision.

_________________

That night it was simple; Peter had already planned everything out. He arranged the time for Derek and Ennis, and all he had to do was convince Paige of where to meet. Derek could only worry about his indecision.

But what happened that night, Peter would talk of with remorse.

Really, it was one of the most fortunate unpredicted outcomes that he had ever had.

Peter watched the scene from around the corner. Ennis, in his menacing Alpha form charged, at the girl. She ran in vain, he was faster, stronger, inhumane. He attacked her, and bit her side. It bled profusely, her face turning pale and her body slumped over.

The screaming ran through the halls. She tried to crawl away.

Derek came at Ennis than, a fifteen-year-old boy against a giant. Ennis threw him easily and crushed his head to the ground, forcing him to look at the now crippled girl.

There was no reason to fight; she had already been bitten. It was apparent too; the bite didn’t take.

Peter watched the scene hidden around the corner. His back pressed up against the wall, eyes wide, and breath coming out in quick hyperventilating spurts. What would Ennis do to him? He promised that he would have a new werewolf and be in good with Talia, and then in return he would help Peter in his goal.

This was before Peter realized that fortunate mistake.  Right now all he could think about how Ennis would react. He would crush him or even worse expose how bitterly the plan had turned out.

He tried to sneak out the back, half-turning to try to move quickly, but still mask his scent. Ennis being the Alpha he was, found him too fast. Peter was pressed against the outside wall, face first, before he could even identify Ennis as more than a blur.

“We had a deal!” He growled; his voice mutated from the change.

Peter tried to move away as his cheek scraped against the wall, and loose pieces of cement scratched his skin and created red marks. They would heal quickly of course, but the pain was still there.

“She was young and strong!” He closed his eyes so they didn’t hit the cracked wall, “most of the time the bite takes.”

“Well it didn’t!” He slammed Peter’s head again, “and now, I don’t have a werewolf, and Talia will be after me.” He squeezed harder.

“I can get you someone better! Someone better than even Talia!” Peter said quickly and tried to keep the charm in his voice even though Ennis was about to pop his skull open.

He released him a little, letting Peter be able to slide back down, and face him. Ennis kept a firm grip on the collar of his jacket. Peter rose a couple of inches above the ground from the hold.

“This better not be some random kid.”

“I’ve met him!” He licked dry lips, “and he has more potential than I’ve smelled since.” He muttered the last word, looking Ennis right into his vibrant yes, “Deucalion.”

He placed him back on the ground. His features started to morph back human, but his stance was still far taller than Peter. He remained intimidating especially with crossed arms and bulging biceps.

“Who?”

“His name is Scott, Scott McCall.” Peter continued by giving him his address. “And I guarantee you that he will be more impressive than _anyone_ you’ve ever seen.”

“And if he isn’t?” Ennis’ hands were back on Peter, clutching at his throat. Peter’s own flew in the air. Easy now, play it harmless.

“I’ll make sure he is. I’ve helped my sister raise and train the entire Hale pack. By the time I’m done with him, he will be perfect.”

With one squeeze that would have left bruises if Peter were human, Ennis released him. “He better be or else our deals off.”

He wiped himself off, as if removing the essence of Peter from him, and stalked away into the distance. The threat wasn’t a light one; Ennis would come after him and destroy him, Hale or not.

Peter hoped his intuition about the boy was right. He was different than Paige, he smelled like a wolf. He knew this one would make a good one.

If Peter were an Alpha he would have bit Scott himself.

__________________

He didn’t hear anything from Ennis for four days. He helped Derek carry Paige’s body into the woods so it would be labeled as another one of Beacon Hills’ long line of animal attacks.

But as her body was discovered, and Peter guessed Ennis bit Scott, he still heard no word. Peter began to guess that Ennis assumed he would have to seek Scott out himself. The whole ordeal seemed to be crumbling before him, until on the fourth day, when Peter was lurking home alone, and Talia tried to clean up the mess packs came, did the situation finally turn itself around.

“Peter! Peter Hale! You fucking dick are you in there?!” The yells of a teenage boy echoed outside the house. Banging on the front door accompanied.

Well this was unexpected. From the window he could see Stiles. He was painted all red and flush, with that pretty look of anger, clutching a baseball bat with all his might, and his fist pounding against the door.

“You total sack of balls, get your ass out here so I can bat it into the next millennium.”

“You have all the right words but in the wrong context.” Peter pushed the door open and leaned against the frame. He pointedly raked his eyes over Stiles, Taking in his hunched stance, hair plastered to his forehead with a mixture of misshapen bed head and sticky sweat that made his tee shirt cling to his skin.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He took careful steps forwards, power in each one, pushing Stiles back just with his force, “but what can I do for you,” then his eyes narrowed, and the smirk replaced any of his other worry, “ _Stiles_ ”.

Stiles’ bat momentarily lowered and the top of it hit the ground. His mouth opened in disbelief, those pink lips always chapped. He was in disbelief, how dare Peter act so casual when there were clearly more important matters at hand.

Peter figured, then, it had to do with a certain young man who had just received a powerful gift.

“You can start explaining why the bite on my best friend’s stomach is exactly the same as the one on Paige’s.”

“Now why,” inches away now, enough for even a human to see the dark circles under his eyes and scratches along his shoulders and necks. “Would I have anything to do with your friend?”

The bat was raised again as Peter came closer, “because, douche-bag, when the thing bit him he said your name.”

So that was how Ennis decided to play it.

“And if you don’t tell me how to save him, or what exactly happened, then I will end you and all your creepiness.”

Peter grabbed hold of the bat. He pushed back with such strength that he could see Stiles’ hands shaking to remain steady. His force was enough to push Stiles hands backwards, strained at the wrists.

His eyes quickly changed to that warm, golden. “Don’t test me,” he gripped Stiles’ chin and while he looked up at him confused and mildly disgusted, Peter ripped the bat out form his hands and threw it to the ground splitting it open with such force. “If you want to save him.”

Save wasn’t the appropriate word, really, the situation was more in depth and it would be better to have the McCall boy present and a more rational and less enraged Stiles.

“Bring him around here tomorrow afternoon, after your practice. It’ll be easier with both of you here.” He retreated back into the home. It would be unfortunate for Stiles to run into Derek without Peter being able to explain the situation first and ease him out of not telling his mother. Lately, the two had been on uneasy terms, even for best friends.

“Peter if you did something to him-“

“I didn’t do anything but help give him the best gift anyone could imagine.” Peter yelled from his doorway. “Now, run along before your father sees you. Wouldn’t want you at the scene of another ‘animal attack’ right Stiles?”

“How do you know?”

“I know a lot of things, you’re an interesting boy Stiles, even for a human.” Peter backpedaled and kept a hand on the door handle. “And, when you get angry like that, you look absolutely delicious.”

A wolf’s smile.

Stiles didn’t leave right away; instead he spoke in that ragged, broken, voice with his body heaving like every breath was an effort. “Why me? Why _him_?”

Peter shut the door.

______________


End file.
